still, she smiles, oh the way she smiles, yeah
by queenforbes
Summary: Caroline Forbes can be summed up in one word. Lonely. And see, Kol Mikaelson's got a problem with that. / No romance whatsoever. Just pure, lovely friendship, a bit of crazy and a crapload of unlikely occurrences.


**a/n:** Caroline Forbes deserves better. This story doesn't have romance as the royal focus. I say that here and now so if Lovey McLove Love is your thing, you probably shouldn't go on. I want TVD to have friendship as the focus, the thought that this group of misfit vampires, werewolves, witches - these friends do everything to help each other. But ah, well. That's what fanfiction is here for, right?

Enjoy?

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**still, she smiles, oh, the way she smiles, yeah**

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_"There is nothing better than a friend—unless it's a friend with chocolate."_

**—Linda Grayson**

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**last time i'm asking you**

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When Caroline Forbes crashes into a red Ferrari, the first thing that flashes across her thoughts is: _Damn. I shouldn't have had that cookie._

Okay, so perhaps it's a bit of a strange response given that she's getting slammed against her seat and her seatbelt is straining as both hands tighten on the wheel. Almost as if on autopilot, Caroline's screaming and her shoe slams down onto the accelerator before realising it's the goddamn _accelerator—Caroline, for god's sake, get your act together—_and shifts to the brakes. She's thrown back, blonde curls bouncing, and it takes Caroline a minute to realise she's still very much alive and the bright light is just the sun.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Fingers shaking, Caroline manages to push open her car door and inhales, exhales, inhales, exhales—OH, SWEET SWEET AIR, HOW SHE WILL NEVER TAKE YOU FOR GRANTED EVER AGAIN. She falls on her knees, hugs herself, mumbles grateful thanks for life.

And then her eyes fall on a furious Kol Mikaelson.

"I said," he repeats, "what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Uh." Caroline's mouth falls open. She scrambles to get herself up and brushes down her clothes self-consciously as her mind explodes. Come on, Caroline! Now's your time to test the effectiveness of your motivational speeches—say something intelligent! "Uh."

Her inner voice facepalms.

But let's not be too mean to dear Caroline, now, shall we?

The face—nay, the _star_ of Mikaelson Pictures, one of the biggest film companies in the world, is staring down at her, scowl perched on his lips, eyes narrowed. "You could have scratched my car!"

Caroline blinks. "Excuse me? It's your reckless driving that got us into this mess in the first place. _I_ was the one in danger."

"My baby was the one in danger!"

"A car matters more to you than an actual person?" Caroline turns bitch-mode on fast. She glares at him, taps her foot impatiently, folds her arms—you've got another thing coming if you thought Caroline Forbes would ever go down without a fight, Mikaelson.

Kol tilts his head. He smirks. "You look like a tasty little thing. Drinks?"

Caroline actually gapes. The _nerve_ of this guy... "Screw you, asshole."

She slams the car door behind her angrily. Kol shrugs.

And that's the first meeting of many.

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Amy Bradley is a bitch.

She laughs, simpers, pats her boss's arm. She sneers at Caroline, surrounds herself with practically everyone from the company, fights to take over Caroline's position. "I heard she was sleeping with Tyler, the slut." Amy fixes her hair in the reflective surface of the glass in the canteen. "No wonder she's got top position in the company. Because she's always _on top_."

There's a chorus of laughter, shifty looks towards Caroline who has heard, thank you very much, and she's no slut, Amy freaking Bradley who drapes herself over Tyler Lockwood every time he's in her perimeter; no, she's a freaking _professional_. In fact she's so professional, she's going to professionally drop not-so-innocent pictures of Tyler in all of your drawers and then call for a cabin inspection. Professionally, of course.

Caroline scowls, hisses angry threats (under her breath, she's not an idiot) and stalks off towards her office where she eats her lunch and watches cats on YouTube to make herself feel better. It doesn't really work.

When the power of Grumpy Cat isn't enough, Caroline drops the provocative images of Tyler in Amy's cabin, hints to Tyler's mom maybe she should call for an inspection, watches Amy's red cheeks, spluttering excuses. Amy's friends clamour to her defence—_they're all mine—no, they're mine, Amy doesn't do that, Mrs Lockwood—I don't think you should be jumping to conclusions, Mrs Lockwood—Amy's not that kind of girl—_

Caroline feels a lump in her throat, blinks. She sits alone in her cold office, watching Mrs Lockwood tell off Amy, watching Amy's friends reassure her. Her heart aches.

She pushes her feet into her heels at the end of the day, goes back to her cold house.

_You've reached the voicemail of Liz Forbes. I'm not available to take your call right now but leave a message and I'll get right back to you._

"Hey, Mom. Uh, you haven't gotten back to me. Is—is everything okay?"

"I hope everything's good back home—uh, back at Mystic Falls. Everything's good here."

"Bye, Mom. I—I miss you."

Caroline curls up into a ball under her sheets, switches on the TV because she can't get to sleep without some noise, goes to sleep.

She's got nothing else to do, after all.

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"Kol, why are you late again? And don't tell me it was the Vogue models because I had Nik—,"

"I almost crashed my car with this girl on the road. Don't worry, my baby's fine."

"Kol! Who cares about the car—what about you? Are you okay? Kol!"

"Stop coddling me, Rebekah! I'm fine—could you go back to terrorising the rest of the staff? I've got to go find Elijah."

"Don't forget you have to talk to him about Matt for me."

"Yes, yes, Matty Matt's amazing, Matt is a saint, Matt is perfect and he wants to marry you and—,"

"Shut up, Kol. Oh, and Enzo's coming over, about Stefan and Elena."

"Again?"

"Bonnie says they're back on but Damon's got a betpool going on. I bet thirty dollars they're off by two weeks, Damon thinks the next couple of days, Enzo says Friday night—you?"

"Put me down for ...one week. It'll be Tuesday morning. Fight over breakfast. By lunch, they'll be back to the soulful eyes and crap."

"Got it. We're all catching up today, lunchtime. Don't bring a date or I'll castrate you."

"I love you too, sister dear."

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**to be continued**


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